


Just to be Sure

by 42percentcrit



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, before being cockblocked by poor time management and both of them being too serious, but anyway they really love each other, no smut but they start getting into it for a minute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/42percentcrit/pseuds/42percentcrit
Summary: Perceval notices Elffin hasn't been around camp one evening, and goes to find him. They talk of the future, of duty, and of love.One shot.





	Just to be Sure

The long shadows of evening had already merged and faded into encompassing dimness, and the air had taken on a cool edge that grew colder still. In the Etrurian Army's camp, some still sat around fires and spoke or ate, but many had retired to their tents. Perceval, however, was neither in his tent nor at a fireside, instead pacing through the campsite with roving eyes which eventually landed on a small opening in the surrounding trees, barely noticeable in the gloom. On a hunch, he turned toward it.

He was a reasonably tall man, and only needed to take a few long strides from the opening into the forest before his hunch paid off: sitting against a large tree was the person he had been looking for.

"Elffin," he called out gruffly, causing the bard, who had been absorbed in thought and only resting his hands absently on his harp, to look up abruptly. "You should return to your tent. It's late."

A small smile took the place of Elffin's momentarily startled expression. "Ah, General. I must have lost track of the time." He made no move to get up. "Evening patrol?"

Perceval nodded, an efficient and impassive movement that would not betray to an outsider the fact that he was lying, and had in fact been specifically seeking the man who now sat before him. "If I hadn't heard your playing, I might have overlooked you." Another lie: he had heard no music or anything else. "Get back to camp before you lose your way as well as the time."

The bard tilted his head with a faintly amused expression. "Right away." Cradling the harp in one arm, he rose to his feet, legs clearly stiff, and shuddered as if only now realizing how cold the woods were without sun or fire. Perceval's eyebrow twitched.

"How long have you been here?"

"Hm... when did we make camp?"

This drew a sigh from the general, slight by anyone's standards but distinctly exasperated. "You've not eaten then. You're too late for mess, now." Elffin only hummed in acknowledgment. Perceval sighed again. Not eating, staying out in the night air for hours-- was the other man _trying_ to make himself unwell? His constitution was frail enough as things were.

"If it isn't too much trouble, General," Elffin's voice with its subtle lilt interrupted Perceval's thoughts, "perhaps you could accompany me back? A bard is hardly vital to the army, but if I were indeed to get lost, I can think of a few people who might have sharp words for me." He came to stand next to the general, and glanced up expectantly.

"Very well."

Without any sign of confusion, the two began to walk casually in the opposite direction from the camp, further into the trees. Only once the lights of camp were invisible behind them did Elffin stop, with Perceval following suit. The bard set his harp down against a nearby tree, then turned his head this way and that, more listening than looking for any sign of company. Finally satisfied they were alone, he turned back to face the general, who had been standing statue-still while he checked. When Elffin took his hand, he let out a low breath.

"You'll make yourself ill again if you continue this way, Highness." He squeezed the bard's-- the Etrurian Prince's-- fingers gently. "What were you doing, anyway?"

"Oh? Worried I might be planning to slip off and sing my songs elsewhere?"

Perceval didn't reply. Mildain waved his free hand. "A poor jest. I... There was a lot on my mind, is all. Traveling with Roy's army has been good, I see and learn much, but it can be... too loud, at times."

Perceval understood. He too sometimes found himself caught up in thoughts of the events that had led him to this point, the events which were still unfolding, and wondering how things would resolve. Had he made the right choices, as a man and as an Etrurian General? Who could be trusted? Would he be able to do what was needed, now and in the aftermath of this war? He could only imagine how much more heavily such worries would weigh on the Prince's mind, how much more he might want a few moments (or hours) alone.

Mildain leaned into the taller man, resting his forehead lightly on Perceval's breastplate. "Court can be like that, too, so many voices... except at court, you can't be sure those are the voices of allies."

Ah yes. After the coup and dealings with Bern, Perceval had become even more wary than he had always been, but Mildain especially had reason to distrust those who might draw close to him-- he was, after all, still supposedly "dead" after being poisoned last year. And despite what he said now about the other members of Roy's army being allies, he still went to great lengths to conceal his identity just in case-- literal lengths, in this case, Perceval thought as he reflected on just how deep into the woods they had gone.

"It's certainly quieter here." For a few slow, relaxed breaths' time, he let himself simply feel the weight of the other's head against his chest. Mildain, for his part, seemed content to stay like that too. "Still... "

The prince sighed. "Soon." One word spoke volumes of weariness, regret, problems yet unsolved. "I'll go back soon."

They both knew he wasn't speaking only of returning to camp. Mildain drew back a little and looked up at his General. "I promise."

Perceval nodded, another small, military nod. "You've already promised." In a recent battle, they had briefly spoken-- guardedly, of course, but plainly enough for the two of them to understand each other-- of Mildain's eventual return to the throne. The prince had sworn not to leave his place again once he reclaimed it.

"I wanted to be sure you knew I meant it."

"I knew."

Mildain smiled again, a gentle curve of the mouth that was somewhere between rueful and amused. "Only you, Perceval."

"Highness?"

"Douglas has more faith in me than I deserve, but it is faith is what I will become, not what I am. And he is impatient. Klein looks as though it physically pains him to address me as less than 'your Highness'. He's matured somewhat, but still a bit naive, and terrible with--" he gestured at himself-- "pretenses. Cecelia's as scary as ever, when crossed, and has made it clear that playing dead counts as crossing her. As would any attempt to shirk my duties." He gave a small laugh. "Every minute I'm not back on the throne is offensive or just beyond understanding. To them, this whole ploy is a mistake at best, a sign of ambivalence and cowardice at worst."

Perceval eyed him levelly. "Your generals love you, Highness." It was half excuse, half argument. Either way, it was a fact.

"They do," admitted Mildain fondly, "but only you accepted my disguise so readily, and only you don't act as if I might disappear again at any moment. You all trust that I will do what is right, in the end, but only you trust me to do so in my own way, of my own will. All of my generals love me, but..." His smile grew and brightened, not a trace of his usual melancholy remaining. "...only you _love_ me."

For a minute, Perceval only looked down at the man beaming up at him in the gloom, and wondered how it could still be so dark out when he was smiling like that. It was a rare thing to see, and he wanted to take it in. At length, he closed his eyes and nodded again, but this time it was a slow and lingering movement, as if weighed down by his feelings.

"Yes."

He felt the hand he had been holding slip out of his grasp and come up to brush against his cheek.

"Perceval."

He opened his eyes again. Mildain's sunny expression had turned to something more muted, partly masked as most of his expressions were, but true and intense behind it all. His gaze recalled embers hidden and buried in ash but still burning hot, burning longer than anything else. When he spoke, Perceval could almost hear that same radiant heat in the prince's musical voice.

"I love you."

Mildain brought his other hand up opposite the one resting at Perceval's cheek, framing the knight's face delicately, then pulled the taller man down just enough to press their lips together. Perceval reached around the other man's back and waist, tugging him closer.

"You've already told me that," he mumbled against Mildain's mouth, the tail end of the words getting lost in a second, deeper kiss. Despite the night's chill, both men felt an inner warmth by the time they pulled apart to catch their breath.

"I wanted to be sure you knew I meant it." Mildain's voice was barely a whisper. Perceval's reply was equally quiet, but the two were close enough to each other that the words were heard clearly.

"I knew."

The content noise the prince made sent a shiver tingling through him, as did the way those deft hands moved to start unbuckling his armor. Perceval was about to join in, the sooner to be rid of the iron and cloth barriers between them, when Mildain paused, as if remembering something.

"We should be getting back."

It was true: it had already been late when they had entered the woods; and the night was actually quite cold, too much so for certain things to be done outdoors anyway; and after all Perceval had only sought out the Prince with the intent to check on him, at first. Even so, the knight let out an uncharacteristic low growl of frustration. He was known to the rest of the army for his unshakeable expression and stony self-control, but the rest of the army never saw him being denied something he truly wanted.

The Prince was the one with real control, of both of them, he thought as he grudgingly helped rebuckle what had been undone. Straightening everything in place, Mildain stepped back, then went to retrieve his harp before saying,

"Lead the way, General."

Perceval gave one of his sharp nods, perhaps a tad more curt than usual, and started to walk back toward the camp. After a few paces though, he stopped and fumbled at his cloak clasps. He managed to remove the cloak before Elffin could voice the question that he knew was on his tongue.

"Wear it." He tossed the thick black cloth at the other man. "Until we get back to camp."

"I have my own--"

"It's too thin. You've already been out here for hours."

Elffin seemed to consider this for a moment, then the sound of him wrapping the cloak about himself could be heard. The two began walking again, Elffin a few steps behind Perceval.

"The General is most kind, to be concerned with a simple bard on a cold night."

"Simple bards fall ill as easily as anyone, especially simple bards who skip meals. It isn't a habit I would recommend falling into, no matter how much you have to-- to practice."

Elffin hummed. "Too much 'practice' leaves little time for more pleasant matters, too."

Perceval only coughed under his breath at that. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the border of the woods and camp. The bard pulled off the cloak he had been borrowing and returning to its owner. As he did so, Perceval gripped his hand for a moment, the folds of cloth shielding the gesture from anyone who might happen to see them in the low firelight.

"Elffin, I... look forward to hearing you play at the Etrurian palace." He paused, and with more emphasis, continued. " _Whenever_ it may be you find your way there." There was just enough light from the few still-lit fires and lanterns for him to see the look of appreciative understanding on Elffin's face as he replied.

"I hope not to keep you waiting long." With one last warm touch, he extracted his hand from beneath the cloak, prompting Perceval gather the cloth up to himself in a bundle. "Until this company disbands though, you are welcome to listen when I practice, if time allows."

"It wouldn't be an intrusion?"

"To have the Knight General hear me? It would be an honor, not an intrusion. At any time. Besides, I've been told I sometimes practice too much."

Perceval's smile was small enough that most would miss it in broad daylight, let alone the nighttime camp, but he knew Elffin could tell it was there.

"Very well, then."


End file.
